


A Knot of Time

by So_Delialicious



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, Lost Love, Multi Chapter, WWII
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:58:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/So_Delialicious/pseuds/So_Delialicious
Summary: The story no-one asked for of a young Phyllis Crane and her lost love. Named and inspired by some work from Phyllis' much-later favourite Spanish Poet, Garcia Lorca.





	1. Mud, Blood, and Curls.

**Author's Note:**

> Every song  
> Is the remains  
> Of love,
> 
> Every light  
> The remains of time.  
> A knot of time.
> 
> And every sigh  
> The remains  
> Of a cry.
> 
> -Lorca

The noise from the aeroplane made it impossible to hear the orders being given by the ground crew. A tattered orange windsock was flapping wildly on its pole in the wake of the large aircraft, visually depicting the force of the wind which still reached them even from this distance. Phyllis Crane stood amongst the other drivers and nurses, trying desperately to hear their instructions. Brown curls had come loose from their pins and her cap was threatening to fly away when the engine finally cut out.

“Understood?” The officer’s words were suddenly a loud shout in the relative quiet. “Good. Now get these men out of here.” He turned and strode away.

A flurry of activity came alive around Phyllis and she sprung into action. Dirty water splashed up around her feet as she crossed the muddy, awful mess of ground between the string of waiting ambulances and the R.A.F. Dakota from which the casualties were already being unloaded. She was making fairly short work of the distance, but others had been faster and the first few groaning men were already being stretchered past her. Her eyes fixed on her destination, she stumbled in a particularly sticky mud puddle and was thankful that her leather boots were high-laced and did not become a casualty of the muck. She quickly regained her footing, striding onward the last few steps before making it to the plane. 

There were bodies everywhere, both able and injured. Stretchers were lined up on the ground as they were hurriedly unloaded, but just as quickly, they were being picked up and carried to the waiting ambulances in a flurry of organised chaos. Phyllis made her way to the next in line and glanced over her shoulder to see that her shift partner was close behind.

“This one is stable, but he’s going to need some attention on that leg on the way,” a young flying nurse told her as she gestured to the man in the stretcher. He was just a boy, really, but at the same time one look in his ragged face showed that the child he should have been was long gone. His peach-fuzzed, youthful features, covered in black smudges and mud, rimmed haunted eyes that were darkened from seeing too much. His jaw was set and he was grinding his teeth in an effort to keep from yelping as the stretcher was jostled about. Phyllis followed the length of his body with her eyes, scanning his injuries. Flesh wounds and grazes mostly, until she got to his feet.. Or foot..

_The poor boy..._

Blinking, she swallowed hard. She nodded to the young lass and squared her shoulders. No time for queasiness, there was a job she had to do. 

“Alright, soldier,” she said as she took possession of her end of the stretcher, “Let’s get you cleaned up and on the mend, shall we?” Looking up from him to her younger colleague on the opposite end, she added, “Let’s try and keep the bouncing to a minimum. I think he’s endured enough pain for one day.”

Over the sludgy terrain they continued, trudging back and forth with stretchers until the ambulance was at capacity. Phyllis could feel her muscles burning and her lungs ache with the effort of it. The smaller vehicles had already left as soon as they were full, and she paused to catch her breath as she scanned the few that remained to see if there would be enough room. She could fit one more in her own ambulance so long as he was able to sit instead of lying in a stretcher. 

Phyllis turned to the younger nurse. “Nurse Ainsley, I’m going to see if there’s a standing casualty we can fit in. You stay and make a start on any wounds you can.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned back and headed across the field once more. She could see a young man leaning heavily on one of the flying nurses, but he was definitely still standing. She willed her leaden legs onward and tried to steady her breath before reaching the pair. 

“We have room for one more as long as he can sit up.” She said while simultaneously assessing the injuries of the stocky man. His head was bandaged over his left eye, and his left arm was in a sling. What she could see of his face was bloodied and dirty, but he was standing. Sort of.

“I can sit,” he said breathlessly.

Phyllis was not convinced he would make it to the ambulance without losing consciousness but there was no time for hesitation. She stepped forward and took his arm from the shoulders of the pale woman and onto her own. The poor girl looked exhausted. These brave women were voluntarily risking their lives up there, thrown in the deep end with little experience and now fighting to keep their heads above water. Phyllis was tired, but she was strong, and her brow creased in concern for the slight woman.

“I have him now,” Phyllis said softly to her. “Go and take a quick breather if you can.”

She adjusted the weight of the increasingly droopy soldier to get a better grip and started for the ambulance. She was going to have to move it if she was going to get him there conscious. He stumbled along beside her as she grunted and strained to keep them both upright on the slippery wet ground. 

Halfway there. “Come on, you can make it.” She puffed, not necessarily to the patient. She could feel him getting heavier, or was she just tiring? No, he was definitely getting heavier. 

“Stay with me, we’re nearly there,” she urged him, but it was no use, his legs stopped moving and the weight of his unconscious body dragged them both slowly down into the mud. Phyllis relinquished the droopy arm from her shoulders and adjusted her position. By some miracle she managed to get her knees under him, holding his upper body out of the mud. She propped him as upright as she could and checked that he was still breathing. 

Gently, she tapped his unbandaged cheek. “Come now, this isn’t the place or time for a nap,” she said loudly in a bid to rouse him. 

He groaned and rolled his head side to side, his visible eye fluttering as he slowly came to. He blinked slowly at first but it must have hurt his bandaged eye to do so, because he groaned and winced at the pain. 

“My eye…” He mumbled, trying to hold his head with his restrained arm.

“I know, it hurts,” Phyllis replied, trying to help him sit up better. “And we’re on our way to get you seen to, but we can’t get far sitting in a puddle. Can you stand?”

“I can stand,” he replied with determination. With some help from Phyllis, he wobbled to a kneeling position. The movement must have taken more effort that he had anticipated, however, and he swayed in dizziness before slipping back down to the ground. She was never going to get him across the last stretch of boggy airstrip without help. 

Phyllis looked in the direction of the ambulance. Nurse Ainsley must have been inside working on the patients. She turned to look back at the plane, maybe someone there could help her get him standing.

“Here, let me help,” a man’s voice spoke unexpectedly from behind her, making her jump. He came around to the other side of the semi-conscious casualty and with one strong heave, pulled him upright. The semi-conscious patient wobbled, his head rolling about at the sudden change in altitude, but remained upright. Her rescuer adjusted his grip until he had the un-injured arm around his shoulders and his own arm around the waist of the patient.

Phyllis’s cheeks burned, embarrassed at her shortcomings. She sprung quickly to her feet, but there was now nothing much she could do to help.

“Where do you want him?” he asked.

“In my ambulance. This way,” she replied, leading the rest of the way to the waiting vehicle. She gestured to the cab once they had arrived. “We’re full in the back but if we can keep him conscious, he can sit here.”

“I can sit,” mumbled the injured man again. It was even less convincing this time but what choice did she have? He was here now and she couldn't very well leave him sitting in a wet airfield. She helped to swing his legs into position as her helper placed him carefully on the seat. He was in… For now. 

“That will just have to do,” she muttered as she closed the canvas flap and secured it. The injured soldier had let his head tip back against the hard metal wall of the cab but his good eye was still partially open. Hopefully he could stay awake enough to not fall out. 

She turned to look at the man who had come to help her and noticed immediately the coarse wool of his air force uniform, now covered in clumpy mud. Unruly curls of strawberry blonde hair were littered with bits of dirt and grassy debris, and he had a smudge of the patient’s blood on his freckled cheek. Frowning, she pulled a strip of cloth from the pocket of her uniform and wiped the blood away before realising what she had done. She pulled away quickly, a heat creeping up her neck at her forwardness. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat.

“You had blood on your face.” She said flatly, holding out the cloth as explanation.

“I see,” he replied, his green eyes watching her intently.

His gaze unnerved her and she straightened her posture, squaring her shoulders in the hopes it would counteract how small she felt in his shadow. The woeful sound of injured men moaning from the back of the ambulance gave her the nudge she needed. “I have to get these men to the hospital,” she said curtly, “Thank you for your help.”

The young man dipped his head in a not but did not say another word. She could feel his eyes on her still as she turned and strode purposefully towards the driver’s side and climbed in. The engine roared to life, the spluttering exhaust sending the entire vehicle shuddering for a moment. Skillfully, Phyllis put the ambulance in gear and on track to the hospital. Glancing in her mirror as she drove away, she frowned at the now empty space where she had just been parked. There was nothing but tire tracks and sodden ground.


	2. Sugar Drops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phyllis reflects on her difficult week and an unexpected stowaway

Phyllis allowed herself to slump a little in her chair. The dingy kitchen was unusually empty for the moment and she was grateful for the solitude. A cup of tea sat untouched on the table before her. Vines of steam climbed lazily upward from it before mingling with the ever-present condensation that left rivulets of water running down the thin window panes. The temporary accommodation allotted to the nurses was drafty and damp. The cold already seemed to cut deep into the weary bones of those who afforded a moment of rest, and it was only October.

Usually, Phyllis tried not to stay still long enough to feel it, but this morning was different. The bombing attacks on London continued under the cover of darkness, and the ambulances had been running non-stop. First aid was given to those with minor strains, sprains, and abrasions, and the badly injured civilians were transported to the already crowded hospitals. Women and children wailed in terror, and men tried desperately to maintain brave faces despite their injuries or losses. Buildings lay in ruins, their rubble covering the streets and rendering them unpassable.

Reaching into her pocket, Phyllis pulled out the tiny, grubby mess of fabric that had been occupying it for the past two hours. She leant with her forearms against the table now, propriety subconsciously disallowing the use of her elbows. Her fingers gently turned and stroked the worn, misshapen limbs of the tiny toy rabbit.

_Sorry looking little critter, it is,_ she thought to herself.

Once upon a time, it must have had button eyes, but they had long since been lost and replaced by puckered black yarn, carefully knotted to match in size. The nose and mouth stitching was nearly all undone and the left ear looked mere fractions of an inch from falling off. 

“Penny for them.”

Phyllis jumped at the voice. She had been so lost in thought that she had not heard approaching footsteps. She turned towards the doorway and offered a tired smile at her young colleague. Nurse Carolyn Ainsley, a small-statured brunette of probably less than twenty-two, had not been what Phyllis was expecting in a partner. She was still a little wet behind the ears and quite frankly had not looked to have anywhere near the backbone nor the physical strength required to do such a demanding job. That early assessment, however, had quickly been proven incorrect on their first day in the field together. Nurse Ainsley was quick to learn, willing to try, and surprisingly stronger than her slight figure had suggested. They had quickly become quite the team.

“A well-sugared tea can do wonders for weary bones,” Phyllis replied, looking down at her still-untouched cup.

“It can’t do much in the way of wonders sitting in the cup,” Carolyn replied as she followed the older woman’s gaze.

Phyllis sighed and reached for the teacup to take a sip. She winced at the luke-warm temperature and placed it back on the saucer with a grimace. “It won’t do much in the way of wonders now it’s cold, either.”

Carolyn crossed to the hob and put the kettle back on to boil. “I could do with one if you’d like a fresh cup?” She offered.

“Thank you, but I think I’m simply too worn out to drink it,” Phyllis frowned at her teacup. “A warm bath and a few winks of rest will serve me better.”

“Perhaps one of these might help, instead of the tea,” Carolyn rummaged in her pocket, retrieving a crinkled paper bag. The red and white stripes hinted that there were sweets within. She opened the bag and held it out towards Phyllis. “Mum always used to keep barley sugars in her pocket for times like this.”

Phyllis reached into the packet. “I can’t say I’ve ever really tried one,” she said as she examined the amber lolly before popping it into her mouth. “I had an aunt I only ever met once as a child who had a whole jar of them on her coffee table. I’d say I stared at them longer than was polite but she never did offer me one.”

“Well you won't need to stare any more,” Carolyn chuckled as she scrunched the paper bag and stuffed it back in her pocket. “I've always got barley sugars somewhere and I'll happily share them. ‘Energy-drops for energy drops’, mum used to call them.”

Phyllis smirked. “That's very clever.”

“Tell me about it. I had no idea what she meant until I was grown. Plays on words tend to go right over my head.” Carolyn wrinkled her nose at her foible. Her brow followed suit as she glanced down and noticed the small object still lying limp in Phyllis' hand. She didn't say anything more, but gave the older nurse a quizzical look. 

Phyllis followed her gaze to the forgotten toy in her grip and laid it out across her palm for Carolyn to see. Clearly it did nothing to ease the young brunette’s confusion, because her eyebrows were now quirked in question. 

“I found this in the back of the ambulance when I was restocking supplies this morning.” She explained vaguely. 

“Looks like it could do with some TLC,” Carolyn’s lip curled up in distaste. “Or a trip to the rubbish bin.”

Phyllis pulled her hand back and gripped the tiny toy protectively. “Some TLC indeed,” she said, rising slowly from her chair. “But first, I think I need to give myself a little bit of care. Enjoy your tea.” She tucked the little bunny safely back in her pocket and exited the kitchen. 

 

***

_Tick..._

_Tick..._

_Tick…_

How a watch could tick so loudly was beyond Phyllis, but the longer she laid awake, the louder it seemed to become. She rolled onto her side with an exasperated grunt and felt around on the bedside for the offending fob. Using her hand for eyes in the darkness, she brushed over the lacquered fingerprints of wood grain before touching the sharp coolness of metal. She picked up the watch and held it up to her face, squinting to see the time, but the hands were no longer glowing. She had been lying here for a while, then.

There was no lamp on her table. Instead, she had been making do with a small and all together far too dull torch which had once resided in her ambulance. Again she reached out, but this time her hand made immediate contact with something. Softness. She paused, her fingers resting on the fabric for a brief moment before continuing on in her pursuit of light. Her efforts were soon rewarded and she pressed the switch.

Nothing.

“Oh, hell’s teeth,” she muttered under her breath as she banged it on her free hand. “Temperamental bl--” Her words were cut when the torch came alive with a weak beam. 

Not trusting the longevity of her light, she held it up to examine her watch. 10:17pm. She had retired early for the night, hoping to catch a few solid hours of sleep in case of another air raid. They had been called out three nights in a row now and Phyllis was exhausted. Valiantly they worked on, the wee hours of the night being swallowed by the sounds of rumbling and sirens. The air hung thick with smoke and dust caught in the heavy fog and by the time they were finally finished cleaning and restocking the ambulances after their shift, there was only a few short hours to rest before the new day began. War waited for no one to rest.   
After leaving the kitchen that morning, Phyllis had headed to the bathroom with the intention of seeking comfort for her aching muscles in a tub of hot water. By the time she had drawn enough to bathe in, however, she was no longer in the mood. A quick top and tail wash would do for now, bed had been calling her name. There was one more thing she needed to do before she could rest, though. Careful not to damage it any further, she had gently washed the majority of the grime and stains from the small toy rabbit and wrung it out. She had sat him on her nightstand to dry for the remainder of the day. She would not have the time to fix it up any more until her day shift ended, anyway.

Now, as sleep eluded her, she reached for it. It still felt that confusing middle-ground between damp and cold that seemed to be the increasing norm in this condensation-ridden building. She switched off the torch and placed it back on the table, lying in the dark with the bunny still clutched in her fist.

The poor little lass that had lost this would likely be struggling to sleep, herself. Hospitals were scary enough for children, but she had also been separated from her family. Phyllis could still feel where tiny little hands had clung desperately to her neck as she had carried the inconsolable child into the hospital. Even with a ragged cough from smoke inhalation and a rather nasty gash to her forehead, she fought off anyone who tried to remove her from Phyllis and wailed so loudly that half of London probably heard her. Eventually some gentle swaying and quiet muttering on Phyllis’ part had calmed her into eyelid-drooping sleepiness and she was laid gently down onto cot. The nurse had come back to take over, leaving Phyllis free to leave. There was still so much that needed her attention, but she had looked back twice on her way out the door.

Finally giving up on sleep, she pulled back the covers and swung her legs out into the cold to sit on the side of the bed. If she was going to be awake, she may as well make use of the time instead of wasting it lying in the dark. She switched on her torch again and fumbled about in the weak light for her dressing gown and slippers. Stashing the little toy rabbit in her pocket, she took her mending pouch from her drawer and headed downstairs. This was one loved one of the little girl that Phyllis could help reunite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My better half insists that I must write 'fluffy periwinkle' in here somewhere.. So this one's for you, my dear fluffy periwinkle. 
> 
> ^ Don't ask.. I don't even know.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to add that I do not have an extensive knowledge of WWII England and so I hope you can all bear with me if my work isn't factually correct. This is a story written from my own imagination, although I have spent a lot of time researching what I can.
> 
> Thank you to my ever-patient beta, Echo7, for her awesome awesomeness.


End file.
